In-Between
by Lucyh95
Summary: Sam is hurting and Dean is there for him. As always.


**In-Between**

It was 5 am according to the faint, glowing digits on his watch. Sam had been staring at the ceiling without really seeing it. He let his eyes wander to the curtains hanging by the headboard of his bed. They had the same color as the rainy morning sky that was visible through a crack in the curtains.

Sam let his eyes wander further, to his sleeping brother. Dean was a vague form in the bed next to him, making no sound.

The sleep wouldn't come anymore.

Sleep never comes easy these days.

He gets up and as quietly as he can, puts on a hoodie and his shoes and grabs his wallet.

Sam leaves behind a note for Dean.

He sighs when the motel room door closes behind him with a soft click.

It's drizzling, and he lifts his face up. White and grey, it covers the sky, and it leaves everything around him bleak and somber.

He starts to walk. One foot after another, avoiding the puddles that have formed on the sidewalk.

There is no one else on the street. But the deserted streets are somehow comforting. Sam doesn't mind. And he likes to take walks, it often helps him to sort out his thoughts.

Even though, these days, he doesn't want to think.

The wind blows the raindrops into his face, but he doesn't mind. Those drops are a whole lot better than tears. Both taste salty, but tears come with such a force and are accompanied by grievous feelings these days.

Sam doesn't want to feel those feelings anymore. Not now. _Not ever._

He has enough.

So he lets the rainfall wash away the tears from his face—erase the pain that they left behind.

It's around 6 am when his feet lead him to a diner.

It's just opening, warm, yellow light spill through the windows and a flickering sign welcomes him.

Coffee, and breakfast for Dean. But not for him. He's not really hungry these days. Not since—

Sam shakes his head, shaking off the burning feeling in his eyes.

 _No. Stop. Don't think._

He swallows, pushes the door open and steps inside. Warm air strokes his face, and the smell of bacon, eggs, and pancakes fills his nose. It makes his stomach churn.

He swallows the queasiness away and steps forward to the counter.

Coffee. And breakfast for Dean, that's what he's come here for.

fifteen minutes later, he's outside again with two steaming cups of coffee and a brown paper breakfast-bag.

He begins his walk back to the motel.

It stopped raining while he was inside, and now between the white and grey colored clouds, a purple and orange morning sky is to be seen.

Meager sunlight shines on the streets, making the puddles glitter.

Sam lifts his face up and lets the warmth warm his face.

He used to love these mornings. He used to, but not these days. Not since—

He cuts off his stream of thoughts again.

 _No. Stop. Don't think._

Sam lowers his face and quickens his step, Dean's waiting for his return, and he's probably hungry, Sam should hurry.

Dean's sitting on a chair, when he opens the door and steps inside, he's reading through a newspaper he probably snatched from the front desk.

Dean looks up at him, eyes searching his face, for something. Sam doesn't know for what.

He holds up the coffee and breakfast. "I've got you something." And he sets down the bag and cup in front of his brother.

"Thank you, Sammy," Dean smiles a slight smile and opens the bag, eager to dig in.

Then he looks up, "you got nothing for yourself?"

Sam shrugs uncomfortably and looks away, "I'm not really hungry, and besides," he holds up his own cup, "I've got coffee."

Dean's brow creases and Sam cringes inwardly.

"You really should eat more, Sam." And then: "You can't go on like this, Sammy."

Sam sighs, not looking his brother in the eye. It's not like this is the first time they have this conversation.

These days, they go round and round in circles.

 _When will it stop? When will all this stop?_

His shoulders sag and Sam feels the corners of his mouth lower, and then his vision blurs.

Again those treacherous tears.

 _When will it stop? When will all this stop?_

He's still not looking at Dean, but he hears his brother getting up, chair scraping over the ground.

A hand settles itself gently on his shoulder and steers him toward one of the beds.

He sits down, swallowing away the jagged feeling in his throat.

"Here."

A tissue appears, and he takes it, wiping his eyes. He sighs.

 _When will it stop? When will all this stop?_

"Drink."

Dean is standing before him, Sam's cup of coffee in his hand.

Sam takes it from him, hands warming on the now lukewarm container. He sips slowly from his coffee, staring at the blank wall before him, trying to think about nothing.

But thinking about nothing, he's not really good at that, his mind always wanders and wanders, and especially to places he doesn't want to go to.

But these days, nothing goes like he wants to, and every little thing is bound to throw him off balance—tipping him over and tossing him into the bottomless darkness.

But, he thinks as he looks up at his big brother who's eating and is secretly watching him (and only Dean thinks he's being sneaky), he has Dean.

Sam has his big brother to pick him up, haul him away from that dark and bottomless pit.

He smiles a little to himself and takes another sip from his coffee.

Dean has always been there for him. In good and bad times, his brother is there.

From the table, Dean scrapes his throat. "You know, I remember a baker a few miles from here, maybe they have those doughnuts you like so much. What do you say, you up for a ride? You can drive if you want."

Dean grins slightly at him.

Sam smiles again, eyes burning a little.

Jessica would never come back. And it _hurts_. It hurts so much he sometimes wishes he could just stop breathing. Wishes he could just stop _feeling_.

But, Dean is there, as always, pulling him to his feet when he falls down. Picking up the tiny shattered pieces of Sam's heart, piecing it together, one shard after another. Even when he gets cut in the process, Dean keeps trying.

 _And Sam can do that too._

So Sam nods and stands up. Feeling the strength return to his legs.

"Yeah, okay. Let's go."

Sam smiles at his brother.

Dean keeps trying.

And Sam will too.

* * *

Hello Again!

This story just wrote itself. I began writing and this is the result. I hope it's alright. Tell me what you think :)

Not beta'd. All the mistakes are mine.

Hope you enjoyed!


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